


Things That Never Happened: Justice League

by wheel_pen



Series: Alice [39]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Kid Fic, Naughtiness, justice league - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:06:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU of Alice series. Alice has reservations about this whole superhero thing, but it’s important to Clark. Still, she’s not too impressed by his co-workers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things That Never Happened: Justice League

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Alice, my original female character, is new in Smallville. There is something special about her, and she and Clark form a relationship.
> 
> 2\. This series starts after the end of the second season—after the destruction of the spaceship and Clark abruptly leaving town.
> 
> 3\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

_Note: Bruce Wayne is dating Lex's little sister Lizzie. And, no one knows that Alice has special powers._

            Things She Never Thought Would Happen: Smiling fondly at the sounds of her two oldest children “helping” their father do the dishes in the kitchen even as she cursed them creatively in her mind because they’d left their toys all over the living room _again_. Sometimes it seemed like this motherhood thing was going to give her multiple personalities, Alice decided, trying not to rip the head off a stuffed bunny as she pulled it out from under the couch. In the kitchen, Willie sternly lectured his four-year-old sister on the proper way to dry a cereal bowl, and Alice could easily imagine the exasperated expression on Emmy’s face. And the almost-concealed grin of delight on Clark’s.

            Suddenly Alice heard a noise behind her, a very soft creak of stiff material, a very faint swoosh of fabric, that would have been outside the range of most people’s hearing. She turned, slowly, arms full of stuffed animals and plastic trucks, and saw the ill-defined outline of a man—or _something_ —lurking dark and still in the corner shadows near the fake fig tree draped in white lights.

            Alice raised an eyebrow. “I hope you didn’t _break_ the lock on the balcony door,” she told the figure, whose bright shifting eyes were the only sign of movement. “We do have children, you know, who might wander out there.”

            There was a pause, and for a moment Alice thought he was going to ignore her. “I picked it,” he finally answered, voice a low rasp that sounded, to her ears, slightly put out that she hadn’t at least been startled by his presence. Well, she was a mother, it took more than a shadowy figure mysteriously appearing in her apartment to startle _her_.

            “Good.” Alice waited a moment, to see if he’d say anything else, then shrugged and continued scooping up abandoned picture books from the couch. “Are you alright?” she asked casually, trying to think of reasons for this man to be in her living room.

            “Yes,” he assured her. Well, there went the ‘injured in need of assistance’ theory. “I need to speak to Superman.”

            “He’s not here right now,” Alice replied coolly, even as Clark’s laughter drifted in from the kitchen. The man’s eyes darted towards it. “Would you like to leave a message?”

            “It’s important, Alice.”

            “Isn’t it always,” she answered, rolling her eyes. Honestly, Alice just wasn’t sure about this whole superhero thing—to her it seemed like _far_ more trouble than it was worth, but Clark seemed to find a large measure of satisfaction in it. She wondered if Bruce gained as much joy from helping people as Clark did—and somehow she just couldn’t picture Bruce being _joyful_. Alice turned back towards the kitchen doorway. “Willie! Emmy!”

            There was some giggling and scuffling from the kitchen, then the two children appeared, hands still damp from their “chore.” Alice didn’t need to check behind her to know that her visitor had somehow vanished—temporarily at least. She hoped it had been difficult for him to do so without warning. “Here, take these.” She dumped her load of toys and books into the children’s arms, giving more to seven-year-old Willie. Then she couldn’t help reaching out to ruffle their curly hair, dark and messy above bright blue-green eyes. No doubt who _these_ children belonged to. “You two go put these away, and play in your rooms for a little while, okay?”

            “Aw, Mom, can’t we watch some TV?” Willie whined plaintively, dropping half the items she’d given him.

            Alice carefully reloaded him. “You’ve had enough TV for the day,” she replied sternly. “Go on. I’ll bring you a snack pretty soon, okay?” she conceded, sweetening the pot with a smile.

            Willie and Emmy grinned back at her and scampered off. Shaking her head, Alice wandered into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway to watch her husband for a moment, dutifully finishing the dishes at the sink. Her husband. Sometimes it struck her all of a sudden, and she wondered at how quickly the thirteen years had passed since she’d met Clark. Would she have predicted, that first time she saw him at the Talon, still stiff and angry and brooding from the dark summer he’d spent in Metropolis, that one day he’d be standing barefoot in their kitchen, relaxed and happy and still impossibly gorgeous even in grey sweatpants and a red t-shirt, with their children only a few feet away? Predicted—never. Hoped—unlikely. Wanted—definitely.

            He turned and grinned at her, and she responded automatically. Alice would have liked nothing better than to blur over to the sink, take him by surprise, and at least get some serious kissing in before one of the children inevitably interrupted them... but unfortunately she had another matter for him to deal with. Lowering her voice, Alice informed him dryly, “Clark, there’s a man dressed as a bat in the living room.”

            Clark frowned a little, then his eyes widened slightly as he looked just beyond her shoulder. Pivoting slowly, Alice saw the dark figure looming silently behind her. “Eek,” she said acidly, after a long moment. “A terrifying creature of the night is upon me. I must repent of my crimes.” Batman pursed his lips grimly and his gaze flickered past Alice to Clark, who rolled his eyes. Alice turned back to her husband. “I’m going to check on the baby. Let me know if you’re going out, okay?”

            “Okay,” Clark agreed easily. Batman stepped smoothly out of Alice’s way—good thing, or she would have run him down—and she exited the kitchen, heading off to the nursery where JJ was no doubt gnawing through the crib railings again. “Sorry about that,” Clark sighed, after Alice was—well, not out of earshot, but at least at a polite distance. “Alice really isn’t into the whole... costume thing.” He imagined Batman arching an eyebrow under his mask, as if to say, “No, really?”

            “Well, um...” Right, be a good host, Clark told himself. Entertaining Batman was no different than entertaining anyone else. He indicated the garish red kitchen table in the center of the room (a garage sale treasure, only ten bucks—Alice loathed it, or claimed she did), then quickly cleared a couple of bowls shaped like animal heads off it and dumped them into the sink. Those were the children’s, of course. Okay, well, technically _Clark_ had been eating his Chicken with Stars soup out of the zebra one, but generally... “Have a seat.”

            At first Clark thought Batman wasn’t going to move, then reluctantly he unwound from his position and approached the table, stiffly settling into a matching cherry-red chair (custom-made Christmas present from Lex, so no doubt ridiculously expensive—Alice loathed him for it, or claimed she did). Clark was certainly impressed with the power he could sense coiled within his guest, which made even the act of walking across an insanely bright and cheerful kitchen somehow menacing. It was no wonder the criminals of Gotham were so terrified of him... even Clark was feeling a little nervous.

            “Um... would you like a drink or something?” he offered awkwardly, picking up one of the freshly-washed glasses from the counter. Belatedly he realized it was a pink plastic cup emblazoned with fuchsia and purple flowers—probably _not_ the kind of thing Batman usually drank out of. If Batman drank at all. Maybe he waited until he was Bruce Wayne again before getting some water. Because it would be pretty embarrassing if, you know, Batman had to go to the bathroom in the middle of fighting crime—

            “No. Thank you.” Clark’s mind ramble was cut off by the decidedly curt reply, and he set the glass back down. Right. Drinking would probably ruin the Batman mystique, anyway. “I really came here to speak to Superman,” Batman pointed out, after a moment.

            Superheroes, Clark had discovered, really liked compartmentalizing their lives. Not that he could blame them. He could hardly be worrying about the grocery list or Willie’s spelling test while he was corralling the drug-dealing minions of a Mob boss, any more than he could focus on those things while trying to meet a deadline at the paper. Still, he didn’t feel he’d yet reached the sharp delineation between his “human” self and his “hero” persona that, say, his friend Bruce had. And Clark kind of hoped he never did.

            “Well, um...” Clark pulled his t-shirt away and checked down the front, just in case, but had to admit sheepishly, “I don’t actually have the suit _on_ right now. I thought, you know, casual Friday and all...” Batman’s expression was unreadable. “I could go and get it, though, if you want,” Clark offered quickly. “It’s just in the front closet—“

            “Sit down—Superman,” Batman said by way of reply. “Please.” The last word was choked out in a half-hearted manner reminiscent of Clark’s seven-year-old, and he tried to hide a grin as he pulled out another chair. Batman took a breath before continuing. “For years you’ve protected the city of Metropolis, attempting to rid it of pervasive crime and corruption. Much as I have done with Gotham City.”

            Clark blushed a little and focused on wiping up a spot of spilled soup on the table. “Well, I try to do what I can...”

            “You’ve done a lot,” Batman stated matter-of-factly. He paused a moment, then leaned forward slightly. “But, around the world, threats are developing which even _you_ can’t handle alone.” Clark looked at him quizzically. “Threats which are aimed not just at individual citizens of a single city, but at the Earth as a whole.” Clark raised his eyebrows. “You’re familiar with the malicious, but brilliant, people bent on dominating the city of Metropolis. But there are other individuals, just as evil, just as cunning—if not more so—with ambitions of ruling the entire planet. These people are often assisted by technology far beyond what they _should_ have been able to develop on their own—you’ve seen some of it.” Clark thought of the rather cool, but terrifying, thirty-foot mechanical spider that had stomped through the streets of Metropolis last year. Even Lex’s people hadn’t yet figured out what made it run. “This technology _may_ be the result of the abnormally high, if twisted, intelligence of those individuals. Or it may have its origins from... another source.” Clark frowned in confusion. “Either way, there are now emerging some threats which one man—even one as powerful as you—can’t defeat single-handedly. Therefore, those of us with... special powers and abilities, who have sworn to use those abilities to help humanity, have decided to band together. To form an organization devoted to protecting not just one city, or one country, but the whole planet.”

            There was a long pause, and Clark realized he was supposed to say something. “Um...” he replied articulately. It was a lot of information to absorb all at once, after all. “Uh, when you say, ‘those of us with special powers and abilities’—who exactly are you referring to?”

            Batman shifted, almost imperceptibly. “During my... work in Gotham I have come into contact with a number of... _people_ with unusual gifts. You may have met one or two—the man who calls himself the Flash?”

            “ _Wally_?” Clark exclaimed, slightly incredulous. He had trouble picturing that prankster applying himself to anything as serious as, well, saving the world.

            “There are others,” Batman assured him quickly. “Many of them are not... exactly... human.”

            It took a moment for this to sink in. “Then what are they?” asked Clark suspiciously.

            “Aliens.”

            Clark’s eyes widened. “Aliens?” he whispered shakily. “There’s _aliens_ on Earth?”

            “Besides _you_?” Batman pointed out dryly.

            Clark felt a little foolish, more from Batman’s tone than his own statement. “Well—I always kind of assumed that, um...”

            “That Krypton was the only other planet in the universe with intelligent life?” Batman shook his head. “No, there are many other inhabited planets out there, Cl—Superman. Many other beings with powers we don’t fully understand. Some are committing to protecting Earth—and others, Earth needs to be protected _from_.”

            Clark stared at his friend, stunned into silence. Although he and Alice had proved the existence of life beyond Earth, their origins weren’t exactly widely known, and extraterrestrials were still relegated to the science fiction movies in the minds of most humans—and Clark had been raised by humans, after all. Abilities due to meteor mutations, he could understand. Abilities due to the extraordinary discipline and resources of driven men like Bruce, he could understand. He’d even throw in a few random weird abilities, like Ryan’s tumor-induced mind-reading. But _aliens_? With special powers? Running around Earth, protecting it from evil geniuses and _other_ aliens? This was going to take a while to get used to.

            “Superman?” Batman prompted, after the silence had dragged on for a little too long.

            “That is _so_ weird, Bruce—er, Batman,” Clark finally answered, slouching in his chair. For some reason he suddenly felt very tired. “Aliens? Are you sure you haven’t been... I don’t know, hit on the head lately or something?”

            He swore Bruce glared at him, but before the dark-suited man could answer, another voice cut in. “I assure you, Batman is completely correct in his description of the situation.” Clark whipped around at the unexpected sound and his jaw nearly hit the ground when he saw a large, bald, _green-skinned_ man in a purple cape standing in his kitchen.

            “This is J’onn J’onzz,” Batman introduced easily, “also known as the Martian Manhunter.”

            “Oh. How do you do?” Clark asked, falling back on the politeness bred into him by his parents. Despite the situation. “Would you like something to drink?”

            “No, thank you.”

            “Oh.” Clark struggled for a moment to come up with some appropriate chit-chat with his new guest. “So, do you... find a _lot_ of Martian men to hunt?”

            The green-skinned man frowned at him, and Clark would have worried that he’d caused offense if, you know, the man hadn’t materialized in _his_ kitchen just a moment ago. Without even knocking. “He _is_ a Martian, Clark—Superman,” Batman explained quickly. “J’onn, this is Superman, alias Clark Kent, reporter for the _Daily Planet_. The League was J’onn’s idea.”

            “Wha—League?” Clark seized onto one of the words Batman had said and tried not to think about the Martian part.

            “The Justice League,” the green-skinned man elaborated. “A force that can truly work towards the ideals of peace and justice on the planet Earth.”

            “Oh. That sounds nice.”

            “Clark, are you still—“ That moment was of course the one Alice chose to re-enter the kitchen, and although she might not be phased by men dressed as bats, a man the color of her fake fig tree stopped her in her tracks. Clark rubbed his eyes with a sigh as Alice’s gaze shifted between the three of them suspiciously. “Clark, is everything alright?”

            “Um, yeah, honey, it’s okay.” He straightened up in his chair a little bit, trying to reassure her. “Uh, this is J’onn J’onzz,” Clark added, as if that explained everything. “He’s from—Mars.”

            “Oh.” Alice seemed to be absorbing the information a little faster than Clark had.

            “This is my wife, Alice,” Clark continued. The Martian nodded stiffly in acknowledgement. “He’s with Batman,” Clark added to her.

            “Mmmmm,” Alice replied cryptically, giving the Dark Knight a glance that seemed to say, you will _pay_ if you get my husband mixed up in anything. Since that was exactly what Batman intended to _do_ , he felt justified in his apprehension. “Could you hand me the graham crackers, please?”

            Clark quickly picked up the opened box that rested on the edge of the table and held it out towards J’onn J’onzz, who stood between the table and his wife. Somewhat confused, the green-skinned man took the box, then stiffly relayed it to Alice. “Thanks,” she said a bit crisply. “I’m just going to be in the other room, if you need anything.” _Such as a Martian a-s-kicking,_ her gaze added to Clark, who nodded quickly.

            “Okay. Thanks, Alice.” After she had left, Clark took a breath and said, “So... I’m assuming you’re telling me about this—Justice League because you’d like me to join it?”

            “I have thoroughly researched your abilities,” the Martian replied, in his curiously flat tone, “and we feel that Superman would be an invaluable addition to the League.”

            “Well... I don’t know,” Clark hedged. “I mean, _just_ Metropolis takes up a lot of time, you know, and when you throw in the occasional mudslides and earthquakes and trapped mountaineers and stuff like that...”

            “Clark,” Batman began seriously, and this time he didn’t try to correct the name. “The threats I mentioned—from both people on Earth, and beyond—are real, and they’re already affecting the world for the worse. If you haven’t noticed them by now, you will soon. If even one of the plans I’ve learned of succeeds, the mudslides and earthquakes and the trapped mountaineers won’t matter. Metropolis won’t matter. Because there won’t be anything left of humanity on the planet.”

            Clark thought it over carefully. His parents always told him that he couldn’t save everyone, no matter how much he wanted to. Alice told him that practically every night. But if Batman was correct about the threats he’d mentioned, Clark—with his abilities, his gifts—couldn’t sit idly by, stopping muggers in the parks while other people fought desperately against larger forces. He had to help, if he could.

            “I have to talk to Alice about it first,” he answered cautiously. He knew what she would say. But he also knew that Batman could read Clark’s decision in his eyes. The Justice League had another member.

 

*******

 

            Clark was in the sauna, a towel wrapped around his waist, feeling the moisture drip down his skin and trying not to think too much. About anything.

            Unfortunately his moment of non-reverie ended when the sauna door opened, admitting another man about his age, also draped in a towel. “Hey, Clark,” he said flatly—he often said things flatly—as he settled down on the wooden bench.

            “Hey, Bruce,” Clark replied. He hoped his closed eyes would indicate he wasn’t much in the mood for conversation.

            Clark had yet to determine if Bruce Wayne was really bad at reading body language, or if he read it fine but just didn’t care. After a blissful moment of silence, during which Clark _almost_ forgot he wasn’t alone in the steamy enclosure, Bruce spoke again.

            “I haven’t seen Alice in a while. I forgot how... scary she can be.”

            Clark cracked an eyelid at this and glanced over at Bruce. The older man mimicked his position, slumped against the wall, head back, eyes closed. He let himself smile a little bit. “Yeah,” he confirmed, with a touch of pride. “You should meet my mom.” Bruce snorted at this. It was the closest Clark had seen him come to a laugh. “I like strong women.”

            “I like soft, giggly women who don’t threaten to dismember me,” the billionaire replied dryly.

            Clark wrinkled his nose at that statement. “Lizzie is _hardly_ soft and giggly,” he countered. “She’s a Luthor, after all. And I’ve heard her threaten to dismember you myself.”

            Bruce shifted on the bench next to him. “Yes, well...” he hedged. “She wasn’t _serious_ about it.”

            Clark frowned a little bit. “Alice is a little... protective of me,” he admitted. He hoped she hadn’t said anything _too_ horrible to his co-workers.

            “Which is ironic in so _many_ ways,” Bruce commented in his slightly acid tone. “Given that you’re, you know, _invulnerable_.”

            Clark shrugged his bare shoulders. “Stuff still happens,” he pointed out. As they all learned this weekend, he didn’t bother to add.

            “No kidding.” There was a pause, during which Clark held out the briefest hope that the conversation was going to end. “And you didn’t tell the rest of us about this whole red Kryptonite thing because...?”

            Clark squirmed uncomfortably. “I really didn’t think it was going to be a problem,” he finally tried. If Bruce’s eyes had been open, Clark knew he would have rolled them. “I mean, there’s _green_ Kryptonite all over Smallville. But as far as I know there’s just one deposit of the red...” It sounded flimsy to his own ears. “Plus it’s kind of embarrassing.”

            “Embarrassing?” Bruce repeated, with slight disbelief.

            Clark sighed. “Hey, Bruce,” he began.

            “Yes, Clark?”

            “If I’m exposed to the _red_ form of Kryptonite, I stop being Superman, alien defender of peace and justice in the world, and turn into Kal, the super-powered rebellious teenager who just wants to get laid.”

            There was a pause. Then Bruce cracked a smirk. “You’re right, that _is_ pretty embarrassing.” Clark made a sarcastic noise, and the silence that followed was more comfortable.

            “How did Alice get here, anyway?” Bruce asked conversationally.

            Clark shrugged, careful to keep his body language casual. “I don’t know. Airplane, I guess. Probably one of Lex’s.” Bruce nodded thoughtfully, seeming to accept this explanation. Hoping to distract Bruce’s legendary deductive mind from focusing on this question too much, Clark queried hesitantly, “Um, she was... really mad, huh?”

            “Well,” Bruce began calmly, “she broke into the Justice League headquarters—“

            “Not hard to do,” Clark reminded him.

            “Granted,” Bruce agreed. “We figured, why bother with an expensive security system if your usual invaders will be wielding nuclear-powered armored vehicles of alien origin or thirty-foot-tall mutated dragons instead of lockpicks and glass-cutters?”

            Clark nodded. “Probably more efficient, financially.”

            “Then she stormed into a meeting of the League—about you, of course,” Bruce continued. “You and your rather ill-mannered alternate personality.” Clark sighed and slumped a little more. So much for his illustrious, dignified career in the company of legendary superheroes. “She mentioned her opinion that we were ‘freaks with savior complexes in silly costumes’”—Clark winced—“and stated that if we could not satisfactorily reassure her that _you_ , Clark not Superman, were alright, she was going to start removing protruding body parts. Starting with me.”

            “You?” Clark echoed in confusion. “Why _you_?”

            “Because I _know_ you, as Clark,” Bruce explained with a shrug. “The whole secret identity thing, it can get a little weird...”

            A major statement coming from a notoriously fractured personality like Bruce. “No kidding.”

            “Sometimes...” He sounded reluctant, but pressed on. “When you’ve worked towards something for so long, when you spend so much time answering to a certain name... you forget what you were called growing up.” _Not me_ , Clark wanted to say, but he figured that wouldn’t be in the best of taste. “Anyway. To most of the League you’re Superman first, with ‘Clark Kent’ being... ‘a set of learned behaviors to adapt to early life on Earth,’ according to one of our members, who shall remain nameless.”

            Clark sat up and turned to his companion. “ _What_?” he demanded angrily. “You don’t think I’m _real_?”

            “Clark, calm down,” Bruce suggested easily. “We’ve got two other born-and-bred aliens, one guy who was given his power _by_ aliens, and an Amazon princess made out of _clay_.” Clark supposed Bruce was used to this kind of thing by now, although frankly it still sounded pretty freaky to _him_. “It seems obvious that they would identify more with the invulnerable alien shipped to Earth than the mild-mannered Kansas farmboy and reporter.”

            Clark sagged back against the wall. “I guess,” he replied without conviction.

            “And given that we haven’t yet come up with successful ideas for a League mixer or bowling outing,” Bruce went on understatedly, “I’m really the only one who’s ever _met_ you as Clark Kent. Which I think was the point Alice was trying to make when she called me a ‘f----d-up little b-----d.’”

            “Oh, G-d,” Clark sighed. “Was she calling _Bruce_ that, or Batman?”

            “Well, I was _dressed_ as Batman,” the billionaire replied, “but I _felt_ like a five-year-old.”

            “Yeah, Alice can do that sometimes.” Clark loved having Alice support him, defend him, look after him while he was looking after everyone else... he really did. But he was afraid his new teammates would _only_ see the furious pitbull side of her, when really there was so much more—so much more that was actually _pleasant_ to be around.

            “If we could get Alice to join the League,” Bruce commented, “I think the problem of evil geniuses bent on world domination would quickly be put to rest.” Clark glanced over at the older man and noted the half-smile on his face. Bruce, at least, wasn’t _offended_ to be threatened by Alice. Of course that might change if Bruce knew that Alice could, in fact, remove his protruding body parts with as much ease as Clark could. But with so much more enjoyment. “Speaking of evil geniuses bent on world domination,” Bruce continued, changing the subject, “are you going to Lex’s party tonight?”

            “D—n,” Clark muttered. “That’s _tonight_? I hate all those formal occasions. I never know what to say to people, or where to put my hands.”

            “Disdain, Clark,” Bruce revealed boredly. “It’s all about disdain for the lesser beings crowding around you.”

            “I don’t have enough money to do ‘disdain,’” Clark pointed out, willing his relaxed muscles to start working again. “I can only afford ‘awkward.’ I can always tell when Lex introduces me as his ‘son-in-law and best friend,’ he’s warning people to be nice to me no matter what I spill on them.”

            “Lizzie always says, ‘This is my husband, he’s a little shy,’” Bruce smirked.

            “ _Shy_?” Clark repeated incredulously, starting to grin.

            “It’s better than, ‘This is my husband, the f----d-up little b-----d,’” he pointed out, and Clark’s grin faded into a grimace. “And incidentally,” Bruce continued lightly, “I resent the ‘little’ part. You _may_ have a couple of inches on me, but I am _still_ taller than she is.”

            Clark relaxed a little. “Well, really, that depends on which boots she’s wearing. She has a pair with seven-inch heels. She ends up taller than _me_.”

            “Walking in those things without breaking an ankle should count as a superpower,” Bruce suggested.

            Clark stood. “I guess I’d better go home now,” he decided. “Get cleaned up for the thing, make sure Alice isn’t plotting your overthrow...” He paused at the door. “You coming tonight?”

            “I’m being dragged. Lizzie says it’s important ‘the family’ present a united front, especially when Mr. Governor is working on controversial issues.”

            “Equal rights for gays and lesbians is very important, Bruce,” Clark told him earnestly. “If Lex’s Marriage Act is passed, it won’t just affect Kansas, it’ll have repercussions all over the country.”

            “Glad to see you’re definitely Clark Kent, human interest report for the _Daily Planet_ again,” Bruce deadpanned.

            Clark blushed a little. “Yeah, well... I think that’s who I _always_ am,” he added carefully. “I just dress it up a little sometimes.” Bruce arched an eyebrow at that but didn’t say anything. “Anyway, see you tonight.”

            “Bye, Clark.”

 

******

 

            Alice stared at the group assembled around her with an expression that could only be described as _disgust_. “Well if the thermonuclear warhead is tipped with _Kryptonite_ so Clark can’t get near it”—there were several nods of confirmation—“what the h—l did you interrupt our dinner for?!”

            “Um, Alice...” Clark began hesitantly.

            She gave him an icy glare and he shrank back and shut up. Well, at least no one could say he hadn’t tried. “One of you can’t just, you know, divert it into the upper atmosphere yourselves?” she continued with irritation.

            The assembled group of superheroes glanced at each other nervously. Evil geniuses bent on world domination, even those armed with nuclear-powered armored vehicles of alien origin or thirty-foot-tall mutated dragons, they could handle. But an irate spouse? Fear of said beings was what had driven some of them to wear masks with animal ears and matching go-go boots in the _first_ place.

            “Alice,” Batman replied, in his low rasp that struck fear into the hearts of criminals in every back alley of Gotham City. Alice faced him in annoyance. “Superman is the only one who can fly _and_ who can survive in the Earth’s upper atmosphere.”

            “And don’t we need to set him on fire?” added Hawkgirl, flexing her large wings. “Because it’s a _heat_ -seeking missile?” The others glared at her, and she looked slightly sheepish. Clearly she wasn’t supposed to have revealed _that_ part of the plan.

            “ _Set him on fire_?” Alice repeated, contempt dripping from her full lips. She rolled her eyes heavenward, as if praying for deliverance from the costumed morons in front of her.

            Heaven was certainly a lot closer when you were on the roof of one of the tallest buildings in Chicago, Clark reflected, trying not to stare over the edge to the city streets far, far, _far_ below. “I’ll just, um...” He swallowed and ripped his eyes away from the rather puny barrier protecting all of them from tumbling off the rooftop. “I’ll just stay away from the Kryptonite part, Alice.” He tried to sound reassuring, confident, Superman-like. One raised eyebrow from his wife and his voice trailed off into Super Whipped Puppy instead.

            “Is there a _lot_ of Kryptonite?” Alice asked after a moment, and there was some fractional relaxation from the assembled League, thinking she was going to relent after all. And then several of them simultaneously wondered why Alice had to relent at _all_.

            “Our scans indicate one rock approximately 10 cm in diameter,” replied the green-skinned alien known as the Martian Manhunter. Coupled with Clark’s insistence that the alias of ‘Superman’ was “iconic in its simplicity,” Alice now firmly believed that aliens had _terrible_ taste in nicknames.

            “Where is it?” Alice sighed.

            The others took this as a sign and immediately moved towards the edge of the building, heedless of the vertigo-inducing drop to the ground only inches away. Clark hung back and hoped no one noticed. “It’s coming up Michigan Avenue,” Hawkgirl answered, pointing towards the spot of silver and red in the distance that was rapidly growing larger as it neared them.

            “Alright, fine.” Considering that his cue, Clark quickly started to unbutton his dress shirt, revealing the blue and red uniform beneath it—but he froze when Alice gave him a _look_.

            “Alice, we’re running out of time here,” Batman reminded her tensely.

            She ignored him. “There is _nothing_ ,” Alice began to Clark, shrugging out of her long black coat, “that breaks the mood faster than waiting for you to struggle out of that ridiculous suit.”

            Clark blushed faintly and took the coat when she held it out to him. “Um, Alice,” he started, frowning as she peeled off her opera-length black gloves, “what are you doing?”

            “What do you think I’m doing, dear?”

            Clark knew he was in trouble when she called him ‘dear.’ “Alice, I can take care of this, you don’t have to—“

            Alice leaned closer and put her hand on his arm, giving him her first real smile since they’d been pulled from their anniversary dinner by Batman’s call. “I’ll do it,” she countered softly. “I’ll be fine. Set you on fire, indeed...”

            “Well, it wouldn’t have hurt...”

            “Superman, would you _mind_ —“ Batman interrupted tersely. They _really_ didn’t have time for Clark to placate Alice right now, anniversary or not.

            Alice disregarded him and handed Clark her purse. “Now, would you please _try_ not to crush this?” she asked gently. “It’s one of my favorites, and it’s vintage, so it’s one of a kind.”

            “You’re one of a kind,” Clark replied happily, with a slightly goofy grin that made Batman roll his eyes under his mask. “I’ll make this up to you, Alice, I promise.”

            “You bet you will,” she agreed with a smirk.

            Coat, gloves, and purse removed, Alice approached the edge of the building, her black lace skirt rippling in the strong wind. If she pulled out some of her more exotic corsets and shorter skirts, Alice thought, she could come up with a costume almost as silly as those around her. Including the go-go boots, which she was currently wearing anyway. _Goth Girl strikes again_ , she thought sarcastically.

            Batman grabbed her arm and looked from her to Clark—dutifully holding the coat, gloves, and purse, away from the edge—in confusion. “Alice, what are you doing?”

           “Saving your butt,” she told him with a grin, then dove off the building.

            The other members of the Justice League were bent over the wall instantly, gasps of horror turning into shock when instead of falling Alice flew upwards, hovering ten feet off the building. “Heat-seeking missile, huh?” she shouted above the wind. She held up her pale hands and balls of fire formed in her palms, arcing first over her head, then around her entire body in a cocoon of flame. She really hoped that fire-retardant spray for fabric worked as well as Lex claimed, because she didn’t want to drop back out of the sky naked. At least Clark had her coat.

            Alice waited a moment until the missile was almost upon them, then shot straight up into the sky, checking back periodically to make sure the missile was still on her tail. Aside from the mildly warm, almost tickling sensation of the flames surrounding her, she could also feel the atmosphere thinning out—a curious feeling, almost like millions of tiny bubbles popping up and down her skin. For an instant her lungs ached for air, then her body switched over to her most alien metabolism and she felt deliciously _free_. She pulled the missile into the upper atmosphere, then hurtled the ball of flames away from her body. The missile swooped after it and Alice let herself drop, keeping the missile in sight even as she retreated. She could _survive_ a nuclear shockwave, of course, but they were still no fun to be caught in.

            There was a flash of light, more silent than silence, then the rippling wave spread out from the core of the explosion, bringing the roar of the detonation with it. Alice pointed herself downwards, trying to cut her wind resistance as the atmosphere blurred past her. At times like these she wondered why _anyone_ had chosen to stay on Krypton, when they could come to Earth and feel this primal and powerful.

            She outflew the shockwave, slowing only when she heard it dissipating behind her. On that rooftop in Chicago, the Justice League would see a bright pinpoint of light, hear a dull pop perhaps, and that was it for the thermonuclear warhead—tipped with Kryptonite, no less. Whatever egomaniacal b-----d thought _that_ up was going to get a rather unpleasant visit from _her_ quite soon.

            A few moments later Alice alighted on the rooftop beside Clark, already examining her clothes for damage. Well, the dress wasn’t burned, but it _was_ rather shredded from her rapid descent. She sighed and grabbed her coat. “Bruce, you owe me a cocktail dress,” she told the Dark Knight sternly, buttoning the coat up over her ruined outfit. She took her unharmed purse from Clark with a sweet smile, which turned decidedly poisonous when she fixed it on the other League members. “Was there anything else tonight?” Her tone indicated there had better _not_ be.

            “Um, I think that was about it, wasn’t it?” Hawkgirl answered, looking to the others for confirmation. The Martian Manhunter nodded once, sharply. Batman shrugged.

           Superheroes were also _excellent_ conversationalists, Alice noted dryly. “Good then,” she told them, turning her back dismissively. She linked her arm with her husband’s. “I’m afraid we may have to give up dinner at the restaurant,” she admitted, pulling him in the direction of Metropolis. “They _do_ have a dress code.”

            “We could just order in,” he suggested. She seemed to approve of that suggestion. “Um, bye, guys,” Clark called over his shoulder as they walked off the edge of the building and hovered in mid-air, preparing for flight. “I’ll call you later, okay?”


End file.
